


Second Star to the Right

by lynndyre



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Post-Game(s), ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/pseuds/lynndyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The princess of Dalmasca watches the window at nighttime, in case of pirates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Star to the Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viridianova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridianova/gifts).



After sundown in the desert, the rocks hold in the days heat much longer than the air. The stones of the city were the same. Even deep in the night, Ashria's feet were warmer than her arms, padding bare on the flagstones of her balcony. 

The pirates were back.

Nobody else could see them, but that didn't mean they weren't there, Ashria knew that. So even if her nursemaid said she was dreaming, Ashria still came out to the balcony. Grandfather Margrace said it was good to have adventures, and he'd done lots more interesting things than Nurse had. And Ashria _liked_ the pirates. 

The man had pretty manners, like Grandfather Margrace, but different. And he talked like Mamma's friends from the Empire. But most of all Ashria liked how he _moved_ , like everything in the whole world was part of playing pretend, and he was the very best one at the game. 

The lady had scared her, at first. Not because she was a viera, Ashria had met viera before Ashria had seen viera before, had seen lots of races, and it was important to respect everyone equally (the man made faces at that, but Ashria knew he was just acting). But the lady looked at Ashria like she could see inside her, like she knew her, and her nails were pretty but oh so very long.

Tonight was different. Not for stories. The pirates didn't land, instead she held the hoverbike steady, and he held out a hand. The lady tossed her hair, beckoning, and the man curled his fingers.

Everyone should have an adventure or two, o most petit of princesses. Come and fly.

Ashria's pants were wide, baggy enough to look like a skirt from a distance, and made it hard to climb over the balcony rail. Finally she pulled up onto her knees, and the man reached out. His hand was big, and strong, and had all the little hard places that came with fighting, and Ashria looked into his face to keep from looking down. 

He smiled, and pulled her tight against him, and she clung as the sky dropped away.

A hoverbike was nothing at all like a chocobo. Ashria had been on Mamma's Scyrra before, and Scyrra was warm, and smelled like armour and feathers. The bike was cold, and the air was cold, and Ashria buried her face in the man's side. He smelled like gunpowder, and leather, and really, really fancy scent. He felt hot, and real.

Easy, princess, it's only the sky. Look at your Dalmasca.

Ashria looked, still clinging, but as the city spun out underneath them like story tapestry her arms unwound, and she wrapped her hands through his belts and leaned out against his arm, trying to see _everything_. The palace looked different, but she could see the grounds, the stables, where all the soldiers lived, the mage-tower with the shield. And she knew the palace steps, and the courtyard, where Mamma talked to people sometimes, and the walls were built to carry the sound out to everyone in Rabanastre.

She knew the market, a little, she'd ridden there, but never walked. There were people out, even at night, and little bright orange glows of lanterns and fires. 

"I want to see the desert."


End file.
